“I did not struggle because I smelt rust on the breeze. I believed—still believe—that I am amongst friends.”
“What do you mean?”
In response, I quote the full fourth understanding:
The supreme good is the wind in the deepmines,
It flows through rock, around people, and over land
The wind is oblivious to these obstacles,
though her path would not be the same in their absence.
When you smell rust on the breeze,
hear the echo of tools in the darkness.
Smile, and be glad
The path is upon you,
and you upon it.
All you must do is walk.
She closes the book. Her eyes remind me of Dancer’s, except unlike his they hold no love for me. “Aurae told me you…understood the book. I was skeptical.”
“And now?”
“Still skeptical, but admittedly impressed by your ability to memorize.”
“Can you afford to be a skeptic? Mars is under siege. Obsidians are at your door. We’re both Reds. We do not have time to be at each other’s throats like this—”
“Red? Me?” She watches me, then says, “I suppose I came from a mine. Like you. Ours floated over Jupiter. I was sorted as a girl. Since I was not chosen to be a breeder, my breasts were cauterized shortly after puberty. I was selected to be a gasfly to gather helium from Jupiter on airlon wings. Red? I have never been Red. Nor Gray nor Gold. I am a human being. You may look at me with the eyes of the masters, but you will not sort me according to their inhuman labels.”
I’m beginning to think maybe I should not have come here. I peer around the chamber. It is familiar. Similar to that of the room the Praetorians beat me in before Trigg and Holiday saved me from Adrius in Attica. The only difference is the vents in the ceiling instead of drains in the floor.
“Is this where you will kill me?”
“No. But this place is significant. This is one of the rooms where the Krypteia murdered the Sons of Ares you betrayed to Romulus. Fortunately for you we are not like the Krypteia. We do not hide our violence in the shadows. You will be tried. You will have the chance to defend yourself. As will the Raa.”
“And when I am found guilty?”
“Ifyou are found guilty, you will be executed.” She hefts the hasta leaning against the wall. It is huge in her hands, and longer than she is tall. Black, it is veined with iridescence. I recognize the metal. She turns it close enough to me that I can read the text etched into the side of the blade. It is the Forbidden Song. “This blade was made by our greatest artificer, Oskanda. She named it Pyrphoros. Fire bearer. Your hands were meant to wield it as you led us to freedom. You will not die by the rope or gas, Darrow of Mars. If you are found guilty, this will be your end.”
“Do you really think Sevro will help you if you kill me?” I ask.
“No. But I fear much has changed since I sent Aurae to find him. We can no longer spend our ships in your war. They are needed here to seize power once Fá has left.”
I almost laugh. “You think they’ll just leave?”
“They are raiders, the Ascomanni. We will outlast them down here. Once they have purged the Golds, we will step into the void. Perhaps then the Rim will finally know just rule. Not that this concerns you.”
“The Republic needs—”
“No.” She stands. “Do not hide behind Mars’s plight. You are not a god, Darrow. You cannot wave your hand and hurl down the enemy. Mars is doomed. The Republic has lost. This does not please me. But I think you deserve this reckoning.” She fishes a holocube from her pocket. “The men and women who risked their lives for you, who died for you, they had no funerals, no public trial, no public execution. They simply disappeared. Disappeared, cast off from every register, every record. Made like they never existed in the first place.”
I know there is nothing I can say, so I say nothing. I nod at the white tattoos on her forearms. She rubs her thumb over the names there. “Proof these people existed. Proof I carry with me everywhere.” She is haughty. Performative in her grief. Yet I can see why Fitchner chose her to helm the Daughters. There is calm charisma and power in her, a certitude wrought from hardship.
